


Flagstaff

by puchuupoet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-21
Updated: 2010-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-11 17:19:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/114773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puchuupoet/pseuds/puchuupoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Unbeta'd. Many thanks to playthefool for putting this idea in my head.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Flagstaff

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. Many thanks to playthefool for putting this idea in my head.

The dog keeps walking, sun beating down on its back, the pavement burning away at its paws. The strip of highway is a black gash through the desert, cacti scattered around the asphalt. Its gait is steady, a rhythmic padding as it makes its way down the highway. It can't remember how long it's been going, the horizon a constant stretch before it, just that it hasn't arrived yet.

On the sixth day, it sees something. There's a small figure on the horizon, steadily growing larger as the sun starts to drop. The sky is purple when the dog finally reaches him, a low whine in its throat until the figure bends over, tentatively reaching out with grubby fingers.

"Hey boy, you okay?" The voice is soft, coaxing as the boy wriggles his fingers. "You alone too? You have a collar on under there?" He pauses, crouched over as he waits for the dog to move.

The dog looks up at the boy's face, eager and young and familiar. This is where he's supposed to go. This was who he was sent to find. The dog drops to his belly before creeping forward, nosing at the boy's palm.

This earns him a grin and a giggle, and the dog allows himself a moment of relaxation as the boy's fingers explore and scratch at the ruff of fur around his neck.

"Nothing at all. You must be out on your own too, then." The boy's voice turns wistful for a moment before hardening, hiding the emotions. His hand smooths over the dog's head, curling around to cup at one of his ears. "Wanna stay with me? My name's Sam."

Sam stands then, looking out over the desert. The night was deepening, colors blending together into a violet twilight. Shifting from foot to foot, he starts to look nervous, and the dog's ears prick at the hitch in Sam's breathing.

"There's supposed to be a town soon, a motel or something." There's a desperate whine in his voice, fingers gripping at the worn straps of his backpack. "Can't see anything..." He trails off, spinning around to check behind him.

The dog sits, gravel and dirt catching in the fur covering its haunches. It waits, watching the boy look around, his lower lip trembling as he tries to decide which direction to go in, now that night is bleeding on to him.

There is a motel two miles west of them, run by a man who doesn't care as long as the money is regular and the cops aren't called. The dog doesn't know any of the details. Just that that is where he's supposed to take the boy he finds. To guide him there and foster independence in the pup. So that he may step up and claim his rightful destiny, to become the vessel the Master needs.

The dog whines, pressing its nose into Sam's hand. The boy seems frozen, staring down at the dog until sharp teeth grab a hold of his jacket and tugs, pulling him westward. Towards the oasis the boy is searching for, run by the man holding the other end of the leash.


End file.
